Ultimately, we decided on a compromise: Lance would call for reinforcements while Warner and I would raid the base by ourselves. By the time the smugglers' informant in the city guards arrived to bring news of the impending assault on the base, they would already be dead.
Lance didn't like being sent away, but he saw the wisdom in our course of action and went without complaint.
Right now, it was just me and Warner traversing a man-made hidden tunnel we found inside the warehouse. It was a tight fit, just wide enough to allow me to squeeze my huge frame through.
“So,” I whispered. “What's the deal with you and Lance, eh? Are you some kind of secret agent working for the Governor disguised as city guards?”
“You hit the nail right on the head, though it's just me. Lance is just a trainee guard,” Warner admitted easily.
“Wow, I didn't think you'd freely admit to it like that.”
“Let's leave the time-wasting to the young'uns, Bob. There's no point in denying something so obvious.”
“I wouldn't say it was obvious. You made a really good lazy act of a guard at the gate.”
“That wasn't an act.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.”
“So what gave me away?” Warner asked as he paused at a split in the tunnel. He looked left and right, then turned right. I followed.
“How about the fact that you're supposed to be some random gate guard, but all of a sudden, Camille just sends you with me to a, quite frankly, suicide mission? Either she knows that we're acquainted and thus gave me teammates I'm familiar with, which implies you snitched on me like an informant would, or you are secretly a powerful operative sent to keep me alive.”
“And here I thought your brain was long replaced by muscle,” Warner muttered. “I preferred your outwardly stupid demeanor, Bob. Makes it easier to disregard you.”
“I am stupid. But I'm also observant. So, which of the two is it?”
Warner paused as we finally reached the end of the tunnel. It connected directly to an old sewer tunnel that smelled like centuries-old shit. The torches installed on the walls were evidence that people were using these supposedly defunct sewers.
Before Warner jumped down to the sewer below, he looked back at me. “Both.”
And then he jumped down.
“Overdramatic bastard,” I muttered before following. I fell for about two seconds before landing on an ankle-deep puddle of liquid diarrhea. My landing caused shit to splash all over the place. Warner, on the other hand, was standing far away, completely clean. Fucker didn't even warn me.
Shit. Was. Everywhere. On the walls, on my boots, on my uniform, and on my beard. The only saving grace was that my mouth was closed when I landed.
I really wanted to curse loudly right there and then, but we had to be quiet. The plan was to get as close to the base as possible before we inevitably got spotted, and just because a bit of ten-year-old shit stained my clothes didn't mean I should compromise the mission by cursing my lungs out.
Though I really wanted to. Dammit, I'm not cut out for this stealthy type of work.
Warner led the way as we moved deeper into the tunnels. There were so many branching paths that if not for the old man, I would have been stuck wandering these sewers forever.
We eventually reached a corner where Warner signaled for me to stay put. He peeked around the corner, and after a moment, he leaned over to me. “Guards ahead, no way around it. We'll have to go loud.”
“Finally.”
“Once we do go loud, we'll have to rush the enemy,” Warner said. “We can't let the ring leader escape.”
“I'll charge in first to soak up all the attacks, I'll leave it up to you to deal with any bastard that gets past me.”
Warner nodded. “Simple but good plan.”
I held my battleaxe in my right hand and picked up a flat piece of thick rubble nearby. It had convenient handholds that allowed me to use it as a shield. It must've been the same size as my torso, but I found the weight manageable. I'd grown far stronger than I expected.
I nodded at Warner, and after a mental count, I charged from around the corner and barreled down the narrow sewer tunnel with my impromptu stone shield raised in front of me. At the other end was a small camp where five smugglers were lounging around. They only spotted me when I was less than twenty meters away from them.
“Intruders! Sound the alarm!”
The keening sound of a bell echoed throughout the sewer as I reached my first victim. With my sheer mass and the speed I was moving at, the poor bastard flew like a ragdoll when he collided with my shield face-first.
[You have slain a Lv. 17 Brawler. Experience gained.]
I swung my axe as I passed by two other smugglers, reaping their lives instantly.
[You have slain a Lv. 18 Bandit. Experience gained.]
[You have slain a Lv. 17 Bandit. Experience gained.]
[Congratulations! You are now Level 17.]
The two remaining smugglers struck at me as I moved past them, but their attacks were nullified by my armor and my innate resistance. I don't know if they gave chase, but I just had to trust Warner to cover my back.
Now that the alarm was sounded, there was no time to lose. I continued barreling down the sewer without stopping, my momentum only growing bigger as I picked up more speed.
The tunnel split into two paths ahead. Before I could even ask, Warner shouted at me to go left, and I followed.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
We spent the next few minutes running down abandoned sewer tunnels, killing groups of smugglers as we went. My heavy axe swung through the air with a menacing whoosh every time I struck, while Warner behind me wielded his spear expertly and took care of any enemy I missed.
Eventually, the sewer led into a large circular chamber that was evidently the smuggler base itself. There were dozens of smugglers running about, arming themselves and shouting at our entrance. Cages of various shapes and sizes filled the edges of the circular chamber, and inside those cages were filthy slaves with collars wrapped around their necks.
Most of them were children, their eyes wide with fear and red with tears. All of them were naked.
Now, I was far from a man with morals, but if there was one thing I didn't abide by at all, that was the abuse of children. These fuckers are gonna pay.
“Cover my back, I'm charging in,” I called out to Warner. “If you see the leader, tell me and I'll immediately run the fucker down.”
Warner grunted in acknowledgement, and then I was off.
The remaining smugglers were concentrated in the middle of the chamber, where they waited for me with readied weapons. Some of them even had hands that magically flared with fire. I had never experienced being struck with magic yet, but it looks like I'll find out how it feels soon enough.
I ran at the smugglers with my stone shield at the front, and boy did I want to pat my past self in the back for picking up the piece of rubble. Dozens of steel bolts and fireballs collided with my stone shield as I charged, soaking up all the damage my body would have taken without the piece of rubble I'd been carrying. The stone quickly turned hot from all the fireball blasts it was taking, and the few licks of flame that went past the edges of the shield scorched my extremities.
By the time I reached their front line, my stone shield was reduced to a small piece of red hot rock, leaving me with nothing to block projectiles with. Well, not like I needed it anymore, because their mages stopped firing to prevent their cohorts from getting caught up in the flames.
And then, I was upon them.
My first swing reaped three lives at once, the smugglers bathing in their own blood as I bisected them horizontally. Notifications started blocking my vision, but I told them to shut up for a moment and focused on the fight.
With enemies surrounding me on all sides, I was pelted with dozens of attacks. Most of them bounced off uselessly against my armored uniform, while those that aimed for my neck only managed to deal a shallow cut to my skin thanks to Hard as Fuck, which immediately healed thanks to my regeneration.
With my entire body practically unbreakable, I let loose in the middle of the enemy formation. My axe swung in slow, horizontal arcs that decimated my enemies' bodies like twigs. Blood flew everywhere, and the sound of pained shouts and breaking bones mixed together in a horrific melody.
Meanwhile, Warner was being a menace all on his own as he took advantage of the chaos I was causing and stabbed any poor bastard trying to flank me. His spear was a blur as it stabbed at the enemies' vitals like a snake.
I reaped lives quickly like a farmer scything wheat, and when the concentration of enemies around me dwindled, the mages took that as permission to start blasting me with fireballs again.
And without my stone shield, things quickly turned hot.
My uniform, although it was designed to resist physical attacks, was not built to withstand magic. The fire burned through the fabric easily, exposing all the metal plates hidden beneath. As the fabrics frayed and burned to ashes, the plates fell off in quick order until I was completely naked.
Dammit, this was just like in the forest when I had to fight monsters in my birthday suit.
The mages hooted at me mockingly as they bathed me in a continuous stream of fire. My skin burned to a crisp and my hair was turned to ashes. Even my eyeballs fucking melted.
The entirety of my being was awash with pain.
“Warner!” I screamed, my voice hoarse from the heat and agony. “Which direction is the mages?!”
“To your northeast!” the old man replied from somewhere.
With my eyes gone, all I had to go on were Warner's words as I bullrushed to the northeast. Thankfully, he didn't disappoint.
I bumped into somebody, and just before they flew off from the impact, I grabbed one of their limbs and I started hacking their body to pieces with my axe.
I read the notification that appeared despite my non-existent eyeballs.
[You have slain a Lv. 19 Fire Mage. Experience gained.]
“Warner! Where next?!”
“Behind you!”
I spun and ran, and I heard fear-stricken cries and footsteps moving away from me. It was moving slightly to the right, and I followed the noise. When I reached my next victim, I blindly reached for his head and pulled as hard as I could until it came off. His screams were abruptly cut short.
After that, the mass of flames raining down on me ceased as I heard the mages whimper and run away. A large part of me wanted to chase after them relentlessly until I killed them one by one, but I stopped myself.
Warner had already chided me earlier. I was not alone in this operation. I couldn't just leave him behind to go off on my own.
The noise of battle slowly dwindled as I stood around, blind, swinging my axe randomly. Nobody was attacking me anymore, though I knew there were still smugglers about. I could hear their stifled sobs and hurried steps as they ran away.
Eventually, the chamber was quiet save for my breathing.
“Warner? You still alive?” I called out as I felt my body healing.
“Yeah,” Warner responded tiredly. “I'm too old for this shit.”
“How about the leader? Did we kill 'im?”
“He's dead. Though I was hoping to have questioned him alive.”
“You should've held back, then.”
“You're the one who killed him, you damn oaf.”
I paused. “Oh.”
“Bah, what's done is done. He was one of the mages cooking you alive.”
“In my defense, being roasted alive was not a pleasant experience,” I said as I sat down on the ground to wait for my body to fully heal. Most of my burns were already healing up quite nicely, though my eyes looked (hah!) like they were gonna take a longer while to come back.
“I imagine it wouldn't,” Warner said as I heard him opening the cages one by one. And then I started hearing the slaves sobbing. Right, I forgot about them.
Fifteen minutes passed before my vision finally came back. When I could finally see again, I saw the final state of the smuggler's den.
The edge of the circular chamber was relatively unscathed. All the cages were open and the slaves were milling about as Warner handed out blankets to the poor kids.
The center of the chamber, on the other hand, was a different sight. The stone was charred black from the fire, along with the pile of corpses scattered all over it.
And in the middle of it all was me.
“Fuck!”
I suddenly jumped to my feet when I realized what I was sitting on. It was the burned face of one of the smugglers. Of all the shit that could happen, me facesitting another man was the last thing I expected. It didn't help that I was naked at the moment.
Warner approached me a moment later. “The smugglers had a total of fifty illegal slaves in here. Two died in the fight from stray projectiles, eight are injured, but the rest are in good condition.”
I sighed as I saw the two blankets on the ground on the other side of the room where the dead slaves were. “Can't save 'em all, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” Warner said. “Reinforcements should be arriving any minute now, and several smugglers managed to escape into the sewers. What are your orders?”
Right, I forgot I was supposed to be the commanding officer in here. “We'll just stay here until reinforcements arrive. No point in chasing rats in the sewers, they know this place better than we do. Might as well keep watch.”
While waiting for reinforcements, I took the chance to look for something to cover my manhood with. I settled with one of the blankets Warner had been distributing to the slaves and wrapped it around my waist.
At some point during the wait, one of the slaves approached me, a small girl maybe about eight or nine years of age. She had a filthy face and ragged hair, but it didn't diminish the brightness in her eyes. “T-Thank you, Mishter Hero. Thank you for shaving ush!”
“Hey now, don't tell anybody what you said. I'm gonna get in trouble if they hear I shaved minors.”
“No! Not shave, but shave!” the girl corrected.
“Yeah, yeah. You're welcome, kid.”
Speaking of shaving, I was elated when I learned that my regeneration also gave me back my hair. God knew the hell I would inflict on the world if my majestic beard was permanently destroyed.
Several other slaves came to thank me, and one even hugged me. It was uncomfortable, not just because I was not used to such close contact with others unless I was trying to kill them, but also because everybody stank to high heaven. The slaves smelled like ten-year-old laundry, while I smelled like literal shit, blood, and burnt meat.
But I suppose the fuzzy warm feeling I felt after made it worth it.